


The Bridge Burned Behind Us

by TheLonelyTree



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: AU from Day of the Black Sun, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Firelord Iroh, Gen, Not Firelord Zuko, Return of the Blue Spirit, So probably racism and politics, Uncle is still amazing but he makes some mistakes, Yayyyyyyy (sarcastically), Zuko suffers before things get better, aftermath of war, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyTree/pseuds/TheLonelyTree
Summary: On the day of the black sun, Zuko did not make it out of the Fire Nation. Instead he was imprisoned and set to be executed for treachery. One prison escape and an extra powerful comet later change everything. How will Zuko find his own destiny when the avatar already has a firebending master? How will he become the firelord and lead his people to peace if someone has already ascended the position?***There are so many Zuko joins the Gaang early fics out there, but what about Zuko joining the Gaang late?
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 171





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the ATLA universe, only the OC's are mine.  
> ***  
> Credit where credit it due: The concept of this fic was inspired by Towards The Sun by MuffinLance. It's a really great work and you should check it out.  
> ***  
> Warning: ATLA has been a favorite fandom of mine, but I've always held back on creating fanfiction for it because I don't feel like I write their characters well. However, this idea has been in my head for almost a year now and it won't go away, so I said screw it.   
> ***  
> Hopefully you enjoy!

The small four by four cell didn’t do much to entertain him, but it wasn’t comfortable enough to sleep in either. The stone walls and iron bars were cool at least, and if he really had gotten a fever like he thought so, then the temperature would be soothing to his body.

It was like this that the former crowned prince spent his days. Not given the decency of a cot, forced to lean against the bumpy surface of the cell in order to ease some of the stress of his body. His mind was muddled in a fever induced haze, and he had honestly lost track of the days he’d been imprisoned. The changing of the guards was barely heard or missed, even, and he could only tell the time through his faint connection to the sun.

Because his mind was so lost in it’s weariness, he couldn’t connect the footsteps pounding down the hall to reality. It wasn’t until he saw his sister’s face looming over him and her lips making sharp movements that Zuko’s focus kicked in.

He should be paying attention.

At least these fever dreams would give him something to attach to.

“-ou wasn’t it. She’s been conspiring with you against me.” The words were spoken in the same manner as always. They were accusatory and conniving and biting. And yet, he thought he heard an underlying amount of hurt.

Strange.

He hadn’t heard that in his sister’s voice since before he was banished the first time. Not since before mother left. The Azula he knew now would never show vulnerability like this.

Something in her face twisted, and she probably said some derogatory thing, but his mind was too muddled to hear.

Slowly, he made the connection that his image of Azula was off as well. His sister had always had an immaculate appearance - not a single hair or thread out of place. The girl standing in front of him was wearing wrinkled robes, not even tied properly. Her hair wasn’t just out of place but also falling out of it’s topknot, uneven and loose. Her makeup was smeared across her face. Most importantly, her face that was pinched in an ugly expression of desperation that she would  _ NEVER _ reveal.

...Not even when they were little.

His observations were cut off by a sharp pain on his forehead, followed by a loud clattering on the floor. He looked down at the source of the sound to find a half empty rice bowl, its contents splattered out over the ground.

“You don’t get to ignore me!” his sister called, the hurt in her voice not fading

Zuko stiffened up, realizing that maybe this wasn’t a hallucination after all. “‘Zula?” he croaked. There was a harsh coughing that followed. His voice was dry from lack of use.

The attempt at her name must have reached her, though, because she hardened her mouth into a scowl before yelling, “You tell me what you did!”

He tried to open his mouth to question her. To ask her what she meant because he did a lot of things, and judging by her reaction, it was probably something he did that was really wrong. Like on the day of the black sun  ~~ and yet he couldn’t regret it ~~ .

His sister beat him to it though.

Just like she always did.

“Tell me what you two were plotting!” He didn’t know what she was talking about. “How long have you been trying to steal the throne from me!” He didn’t understand.

“I,” he began, “I don’t know-”

Azula cut him off with a dark chuckle, the sound bitter and cold. “I get it mother… I understand now. You always did like Zuzu better than me. You thought he deserved more. You always thought he deserved more. I don’t deserve anything. Because I’m a monster, right? You think I’m a monster and monsters don’t deserve anything. So you told him to turn everyone against me, didn’t you? First Mai and Ty Lee and now the palace staff too.”

Silence overcame him, his vocal chords stunned by the ridiculousness he was seeing. It looked as if Azula was talking to nothing. Her eyes remained focused on a spot in his cell, away from him, as she spoke her absurdities.

Blinding blue flames suddenly rushed past the iron bars, making him jump as the wall next to him burned black. “You shut up!” She screamed. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“I didn’t say anything!” Zuko realized his mistake too late, as she fixed her gaze on him. A spirits-crazed smile began to make its way across her face.

“You can’t win mother. You won’t be able to turn anyone against me anymore. I’ll banish brother’s guards and stop them from their insurrection before it takes place. He won’t have anyone to turn against me anymore.”

Zuko felt his brows furrow, not quite understanding what she meant. Did that mean that she was leaving him unguarded? Did she want him to escape? Or was that just his fever muddled brain mixing up her words?

Azula leaned in closer, her nose almost touching the bars. “Did you hear that dumb dumb? You won’t earn any pitiful favors anymore. No one will question the rightful heir to the dragon throne. I am where I belong as the ruler of this nation and you’ll remain here, where you’ve always been meant to be.”

She stood up regally, more confident than she had been when she had entered, and she left her brother more confused than ever.

~ATLATLATLATLA~

Eventually, Zuko gave up his pride and ate the rice spread across the floor, though not without difficulty. His throat was still parched and he hadn’t been given water. With his stomach slightly filled, he leaned back against his regular spot in the cell, soaking in the cool feel of the stone.

There hadn’t been much sound except a bit of shuffling outside his line of sight. There was slight muttering, but his brain was too muddled at the time to make out what they were saying. Right now though, all was quiet.

It gave him some peace of mind to think over what had happened. A part of him was convinced it never did.

Azula had always seemed unreal. Her prowess in katas were unmatched. Her blue fire unheard of. Even if she had been born a non-bender, her mind would have made her one of her father’s most lethal weapons.

Zuko wasn’t like that. He wasn’t a prodigy bender. He didn’t have some unheard of skill. And, Agni forgive him, he’d actually been dumb enough to think a pacifist monk was plotting the destruction of the entire Fire Nation. 

Despite his slowness, he was still observant enough to notice how his sister was falling apart. She was talking to someone that wasn’t even there. Her state of mind was reflected on her appearance, once clean and sharp but now in ruins.

The change in her was almost unreal, and Zuko was half convinced that it’d been years since his imprisonment, not weeks. 

More revealing of her mental trouble was the fact that she demanded Zuko have complete isolation. Though the ex-prince couldn’t say he was ever as tactically brilliant as his sister, he couldn’t imagine that leaving him unguarded was a smart choice. Even if her goal was to harm him via seclusion, it wouldn’t be all that different.

The guards never talked to him anyway.

Was she actually telling him he would be left alone or was this just another one of her mind games? Or was it his own mind playing tricks on him?

Another thing that Zuko didn’t understand was what she hoped to accomplish in her conversation with him. It almost seemed like she wasn’t talking to him at all, instead trying to sound crazy by calling out to their missing mother. Maybe she was trying to confuse him?

Needless to say, it worked.

There was also the depressing thought that maybe she only acted that way because she wanted to tear him down for trying to comfort her.

It certainly wasn’t a new practice.

Zuko looked down at his hands, feeling the urge to just break out and  _ leave _ for the thousandth time. Out there was also confusing and terrifying and painful, but it was nothing compared to his dealings with his sister.

He belatedly realized that this was the first time he’d seen her since his imprisonment.  _ Father must have finally given her permission to visit me then. Surprising that he waited that long, because he usually denies Azula nothing. _

He wondered if he’d be seeing more of her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic to presume she’d come down here to gloat. After all, it was what she did best.

That and lie, of course.

There was also a small part of him that really did want her to come down and visit him. He had actually felt grounded when she did. Though the image was unsettling and the fear never fading, her fire had been so much more vivid than he’d ever remembered. It was bright and colorful and warm in a way that he hadn’t felt since he’d last seen real daylight. The mundane colors of his cell just left him in a numb, bored state in between consciousness and unconsciousness. Today, he finally felt like he was awake.

Wait.

Why was it that his sister invoked such a reaction from him? His father certainly came down to visit enough, but he didn’t feel a difference from the usual near-catatonic state. It couldn’t be fear. For all of her viciousness and cunning, Zuko could never be more afraid of her than their father, even back when he was desperate for his affection.

Was it the sight of a new face?

No, it couldn’t be that either. 

His fever dreams often conjured up images of the people he knew. His mother and uncle were the most frequent, but Azula was not an uncommon face.

His fever.

The unnatural heat in his body wasn’t so prominent and his thinking was noticeably clearer than the previous day. Spirits, this morning even. He didn’t remember how long ago it was that his thoughts made this much sense (how long ago since the last time he was able to string together more than three sentences within his head).

Come to think of it, Zuko’s whole body was thrumming with an energy that was clean and wonderful. Regenerative and restoring.  _ Powerful _ .

Maybe his fever was broken at last? 

Or… or something else. Because despite being a relatively quick recoverer, he didn’t think he’d feel this different in a day. A few hours even.

Something must be wrong with him.

If it wasn’t a recovery, then maybe his fever had evolved? Could fevers do that?

He hadn’t heard of anything like that before, but he guessed it would be just his luck to experience it now, when he had no one to assist him or offer him medication.  ~~ When he didn’t have Uncle by his side. ~~

It was fine. He’d tough it out like he always had. Worse case situation, Zuko wouldn’t recover properly and would just be taken to a doctor in secrecy. Father couldn’t have his prime entertainment dying before his execution date after all.

Still, the energy was practically vibrating inside him, begging to be let loose. He gave it an experimental pull, feeling warmth flooding his stomach. He let loose a sigh at the feeling, fire wisping out with his breath.

Fire.

He was firebending!

Gingerly standing up, he positioned himself in a familiar stance, taking deep breaths before letting loose a flurry of punches and kicks, each spilling out hot curtains of flame.

For the last couple of days, he couldn’t even concentrate his warmth, but now he was able to perform advanced katas without breaking a sweat. Come to think of it, the achy feeling hadn’t resurfaced either.

Oh no. 

The  ~~ father ~~ firelord had been talking about Sozin’s Comet for weeks. Boasting about how strong it was and how it would be the key to their victory in world domination. He said that it could increase a firebender’s power tenfold.

The power that Zuko was experiencing just then… could it be…?

If this was true, then the time he’d spent in here was greatly miscalculated. He needed to escape and warn the Earth Kingdom right away. If there was anything left by this time.

He threw blast after blast at the stone wall, forgoing the iron bars all together, not sparing a thought for any guards on the outside. The little guilt he had at ruining his nation’s victory was trampled by the crippling fear for those in the Earth Kingdom. If his father actually managed to burn all their fields, then its people would starve to death by winter.

Victory meant nothing if there was nothing but ashes. That’s what Zuko told himself as he faced his father on the day of the black sun. That’s what he told himself as he reminded himself why he was locked up in some rotten old prison cell instead of laying in the comfort of his silken sheets back at the palace. That’s what he told himself now as the oxygen his cage became stale and thin.

Even if he hadn’t turned traitor on that day, Zuko didn’t think he could sit by and watch as the livelihood of thousands of people went up in smoke, literally. Dreams of becoming a good leader aside, it was just wrong on a moral standpoint. That’s why, when the smoke in his cell became so thick it was choking him, he didn’t stop. That’s why, when he messed up a kata and his fire burned his wrists he only spared time for a small cry before he was back at it again.

There was an almighty roar and the stone was crumbling away. The insufferable heat was broken by a wave of fresh air and outside light, but Zuko didn’t allow himself to feel any relief. Wheezing lungs and charred wrists could wait; he had an entire people to rescue… or at least die trying.


	2. A Brief Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own ATLA

An uncomfortable warmth smothered Zuko’s body like a blanket to a fire. It was all enveloping, taking control of his thoughts. There was a humidity that came with it, sticky and persistent, that made him itch to wash himself. A luxury that hadn’t been given to him in a long time.

He briefly remembered Azula visiting him when he was in a similar state, acting so strangely.

Unhinged.

He wanted to brush that off as a silly dream - nothing more than his mind playing tricks - but a dull ache in his head (the rice bowl, no doubt) said otherwise.

Gradually, more awareness came to him. He was able to sense his muscles, sore, but working. Zuko flexed the tissue, surprised at the ease they moved. The previously exhausting heat was pushed to the back of his mind, seemingly fading with his growing consciousness.

Pushing past the tiredness, Zuko tried to open his eyelids, meeting heavy resistance. They were still weighed down with sleep, but his body felt the rising of the sun and could not remain immobile for much longer.

The room that he was in was not recognizable within his memory. It exuded a cheery aura with its bright, patterned carpets, obviously made with great care. However, the worn state and slightly uneven stitches suggested that they were homemade. This made the room feel very foreign but very familiar at the same time.

The past few weeks or months at home (if he could even call it that), the atmosphere had been so disturbingly cold, that Zuko often felt worried that his inner fire was being doused.

Here was different...

It was then that a slight waft of ginger hit his nose. The pleasant scent brought his memory back to a happier time - when he and uncle could spend their days without conflict, serving tea to excited customers under the alias of simple commoners. There was an odd pang of homesickness that should not have existed. Not from the Jasmine Dragon, at least.

The Jasmine Dragon. There was that sense of familiarity...

If this was Azula’s idea of a cruel joke, then it was successful in its purpose. Feeling tears gathering in the back of his eyes, he lifted a hand to wipe them away, surprised to find something soft covering it.

There was bandaging on his arm, extending from his wrists to his knuckles. 

It wasn’t just on one hand, he noticed, but on both. They looked freshly dressed and delicately wrapped, a vast difference from the time he’d been examined by the prison guards. Whereas before there was a pinching tightness - accidentally made in haste or purposefully created for his discomfort, he didn’t know - now there was none. These bandages were actually meant to heal.

The ex-prince felt around his wrists in a somewhat detached state. Besides from a slight sting, there was barely any pain either.

“Careful now, you don’t want to undo all my hard work.” Zuko turned his head at the sound to find an old woman. She was smiling. It was a self-satisfied smile that he had seen many times on Azula when they were younger. He never saw it leave now. The expression left a nauseous feeling in his gut. That smile never boded well for him.

Zuko followed her gaze down to his wrists, hanging loose in his lap.

“You’re a healer,” he stated. She must have been the one to dress his wounds.

“That I am. Cleaned all your cuts and put salve on your bruises, but there wasn’t much to do for the fever but wait.” Her fire-bright eyes suggested that she was waiting for something. Maybe this was where she would attack. She’d wait for him to say something and then pounce. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was what the spirits had in store for him. After all, Zuko was the butt of his own life’s joke.

The former prince did manage a small “thanks,” scared to reveal anything else. He hid his face behind his bangs, waiting for the punchline to drop.

A small squeak from the greying woman caused him to lift his head up. Her fists were clenched in what he would mistake for anger if not for the massive grin on her face. If she was maybe sixty years younger, she would perfectly resemble a child getting a shiny, new toy.

“No problem. I would be betraying the dragon throne if I let the crowned prince cook himself to death anyways.” She bowed. “My name is Yoko. My husband, Akio, would be very happy to meet you, but he’s on orders from me to rest for a bit, so it’s just me for now.”

She addressed him as the crowned prince, which was odd and a bit terrifying. Zuko couldn’t tell if she meant that mockingly or not. And then, even if she didn’t, he wasn’t able to determine if it was an act of some sort.  _ Could she be trying to lure him into a false sense of security? Act all earnest and innocent in order to lure me into an illusion of safety while father’s soldiers move into attack? _

He wasn’t good at reading people like Uncle. He could be right… or he could very well be putting more unnecessary obstacles within his path. A pang grew in his heart the more he dwelled on the thought. Zuko felt that, for both his wellbeing and respect for the man who’d raised him like his son, he needed to behave like Uncle would.

And if Uncle was unsure, he wouldn’t show it. He’d leave an escape open while placing himself in a playing position. That was easier said than done.

He needed to continue this conversation and gather as much information as he could? Maybe? That seems like the best idea.

“Ahhh…. Thanks, Yoko.”  _ Stupid. You’re just repeating previous words. Uncle would make it sound better. _ “My name is Zuko… but you probably already knew that…”  _ That’s even worse. _

She pursed her lips, probably holding in a laugh. “I have a question for your highness, if you don’t mind.” Zuko met her eyes warily. What the question would entail, he didn’t know, but he wisely bit his tongue and nodded his head instead. Maybe, if he answered this, she’d feel obliged to answer a question of his own?

“Thank you, your highness! I was... well, forgive me for being so rude… but I was wondering if you are satisfied with my work.” The response floored Zuko. It felt so genuinely eager that he couldn’t argue it having another motive. Not everybody was as good at lying as Azula. He didn’t think that even she could replicate that level of earnestness.

“Yes,” he said. Then he mumbled, “The best I can remember having for a long time.” That wasn’t a lie. He could still envision the handprints left by the guards from their ‘gentle care’. There were imprints left for weeks... Compared to the violence he’d been shown before, this gentleness felt almost surreal.

_ Please be working for them. Please don’t take me back to my cell _ , he thought. He could struggle, of course, but he didn’t know how many guards were posted outside.

Yoko’s copper eyes widened before sloping downward into more gentle features. “You don’t have to worry about that, your highness, the Earth Kingdom can’t hurt you here.”

The response caused his heart to miss a beat.  _ Had he said that out loud? _ Zuko cautiously repeated, “The Earth Kingdom?”

Her mouth pinched at their mention, already pale lips white with strain. “I’m sorry, you probably are curious about them, but I’m afraid to say that we don’t get much news as simple farmers.” Emotions flickered across her face: distaste, embarrassment, anger. It finally ended in fear, and in a much more panicked voice, she spoke, hands replicating the frantic response, “But I can promise that I’ll tell you as soon as I hear something. My son is in the 23rd division. They were sent out a fortnight ago. If you’re still around by the time he gets home, he’ll explain everything.”

Zuko frowned, not sure whether to thank or express dissatisfaction with his country’s lack of communication - internally, that is. She probably didn’t know what he did either, then. For whatever reason, his father must have kept that a secret.

His brooding must have frightened her even more, though, because she hurriedly reassured him of their promised victory and asked if his highness would like anything to eat while they waited. The reminder of food sent a growl to his stomach, and Yoko left to prepare a dish of rice with curry for him.

He brooded on his failure while he waited. If only he hadn’t hesitated... He could have joined the avatar, been celebrating the end of the hundred year war at the Jasmine Dragon with Uncle. Instead he was on the run from the Fire Nation. A pointless endeavor since the whole world was the Fire Nation by now.

Agni, was the avatar even alive? He had to hold onto the hope that the monk had done  _ something _ , even with mastering all four elements.

Zuko looked down at the bandaging on his hands. Probably ruined because of his careless firebending.

Pointless too. Zuko scoffed. He couldn’t think like that. Uncle would tell him that this kind of thinking was what was pointless. ‘Never give into despair’. He escaped. That was something.

Minutes passed before even his thoughts couldn’t distract him and he began to absentmindedly pick at the wrappings, finding bits of flesh peeling with the fabric.

“Don’t mess with that!” the old woman cried, abandoning her post in the kitchen to still his hands. The salve hasn’t had a chance to completely disinfect it yet. By doing that, you’ll pull off just as much dead skin as new.” She huffed exaggeratedly. “Then we’ll have to start all over.” She looked up at him then, pale as a spirit. “I’m sorry your majes- I didn’t mean it. I mean, I was just looking out for your well being.”

She seemed to move around him in the same manner that the servants at the palace did - eager to impress and terrified to disappoint. It was another thing that he wasn’t proud of: getting home and snapping at them, releasing him bad mood on them. Zuko needed to be better if he could ever forgive himself. 

If he ever wanted Uncle to forgive him.

“It’s fine,” Zuko said. “I actually wouldn’t mind knowing the extent of all my injuries.” 

Yoko relaxed, visibly relieved that he wasn’t upset by her bedside manner. “Besides the burns on your hands, you have very few injuries. They’ve already healed in your unconsciousness. I guess those Earth Kingdom brutes weren’t so gritty and tough after all, weren’t they, highness.” She kept talking him up, calling him by formalities, reassuring him of their Nation’s superiority. The difference between her treatment and his past company continued to baffle him.

“I guess not.”

“I think the most concerning part was your fever. My husband had found you passed out by our koala-goats on his way back from the festival. We recognized you immediately, tried to send a letter to the capital, actually, but with the final stretch of the war, I doubt the message will make it through. The - Agni forgive me - damned schoolchildren have been sending false mail for weeks. Letters aren’t being accepted anymore, and now the messenger hawks don’t even come back. Sweet Akio, my husband, offered to walk to Caldera and deliver the news himself, but your temperature rose dramatically and he had to purchase medicine instead.”

“I’ve spent the last three days by your bedside, trying to bring it down. Your fever broke some time this morning, though I reckon you still feel pretty awful. A sickness that bad leaves you feeling it for days. Anyways, that brings us to where you are now. I think you should stay in bed for another day, just to be safe.”

“No, I can’t afford to waste any time.” Zuko pushed himself up, weak but determined. He took about three steps before his strength gave out.

Yoko leaned down and helped him back to his feet, grip surprisingly strong despite her age. “There’s something else,” she started, gently guiding him back to the cot, “You look extremely malnourished. Your reaction to standing up just proves that. You should be taking it easy until you feel okay to walk again. As soon as the rice is done- Arghhh the rice! I completely forgot! She rushed back into the other room, but Zuko could hear her moving still. Amongst the clattering a cutlery, came a few select swears, probably thought unheard.

“I’m so sorry, your majesty,” she said, arriving back besides him, “but it seems that I’ve overcooked the rice. I’ll have to make you some more.” She leaned over and gave him a respectful bow, which was good because she wouldn’t see the embarrassed flush that was making its way up his face. The positive attention was uncomfortable after an unknown time spent in solitude and disgrace.

The stop the unnecessary respect, he said, “It’s fine. I can make do with it. I really need to go.”

This, of course, backfired.

She was now looking at him like he’d grown two heads. “Do I need to check your fever again? Has it gotten noticeably worse since you’ve woken up?”

“No, it’s not that…” It really wasn’t; he just needed to get out of here and see for himself the damage that was done. He also wasn’t about to lie to himself. The urge to run away before his father caught wind of his disappearance was also at the forefront of his mind.

She read him… errr... or at least close enough. “Don’t worry about sending word to your father; my husband already agreed to go in person. He’ll set off come tomorrow’s first light.” This is what he was worried about - his father finding out. Zuko didn’t think that anyone would believe Akio, not at first. But news tended to spread around the capital, even if it was unrealistic, and  _ something _ would get back to his father.

And his sister.

Zuko was loathe to admit it, but if she caught wind of his disappearance and he was still in the Fire Nation, he was as good as captured already.

Yoko didn’t know that his arrival wasn’t a good thing. She didn’t know what harm would befall her by his being here. She didn’t know that even if he had not betrayed his father, his failure to see a mission through would be enough for the Firelord to kill him.

Zuko needed to leave before his family found him. “Don’t bother,” he said, “I need to get back to the crew.” It was a bluff, and a bad one considering that a land battle didn’t require ships, but he managed to choke through it without his voice cracking.

Yoko protested, but most of the fire had died down. “I guess I should send you on your way then.” She looked down. “Do you prefer pork or beef?”

“What?” He was confused about the question.

“It would be rude of me to send you away without any food to help you along your journey. So I want to know what you would prefer in your dumplings.”

Zuko looked down, surprised at how easily she accepted his bluff. “Either is fine… but, before I go… do you have any packages of fire flakes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rereading this chapter made me really sad, ngl. I'm unsatisfied by the fact that I never wrote him eating the rice.  
> Anyways, I want to say thank you for the amazing response. You guys are so incredibly sweet. I think the next chapter will be updated in a week or sooner, so keep a lookout. Spoilers: We'll get to see the Gaang's perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Like everybody else on here, your feedback is what I live for. Please leave kudos and reviews AND criticism. Seriously. I haven't yet taken any creative writing classes and I don't want to make a bunch of fatal mistakes, so if you could point them out to me, that'd be great.


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